For ten days, I live in a beautiful and comfortable two-bedroom apartment on the eastern edge of the city of Vancouver, near Burnaby, and make sure the 18-year-old resident cat gets his food and medicine on time. He’s an affectionate old straggly tabby with hyperthyroidism and cancer. The apartment has shelves and shelves of books: anthologies, classics, travel books and bestsellers. The titles read like my list of Want-to-Reads.

Meanwhile, my daughter and I visit various colleges and universities, settle on a program and find a room for her to rent with university students in Kitsilano.

I hear on the news that the TransCanada road has washed out between Medicine Hat and the Saskatchewan border – the very road we were driving on last week.

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